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Volume 5095
Tarzan® to the Rescue
By John Martin

Being the story behind the development of the famous Milton Bradley Tarzan to the Rescue® game
and how most of the games and some other trademarked products
came together in the wilds of Africa at a particular point in history.

Chapter 1 -- Raw Terror on the Quest
  Professor Plum was plum-tuckered from the ordeal so far. He knew that seeking the Golden Temple in the dense jungle would not be simple, but he hadn't figured on the vicious bite of the mosquito and Cootie®, either. They had drained off so much of his blood that he hardly had the strength to continue. But he called upon his inner reserves and trudged onward.

  Col. Mustard, his guide and rifleman, was a sturdy stalwart, having survived a Battleship® sinking in an encounter with the Brandenburg, and having acquitted himself with distinction in the Boer War and other campaigns before turning to the more relaxing life of protecting people who really had no business going into the Jenga®.

  Mrs. Peacock, the Old Maid® who had paid for the expedition, thanks to her late husband's Monopoly® in feather futures, brought up the rear, along with her own rear, which was being held up from its usual sagging posture by a pair of sturdy loggers' suspenders which were attached to her Depends®, the padding she wore to avoid as many hovering sessions inches above the unpredictable jungle floor as possible.

  Far to the West, also in search of the Easy Money® they might find in the Golden Temple, marched Professor Plum's rivals, Mr. Green of the Bowling Green, Ky., research department, and his voluptuous "aide," Miss Scarlett, along with the camp cook, Mrs. White.

  And in between them, unknown to either party, was the Safari® of Lord Passmore, a mysterious man who exuded an aura of supple strength and quiet confidence.

  Unexpectedly, a fully-maned lion dropped from a tree branch above and onto the path directly in front of the Plum party. "Jumpin' Jumanji®," roared Col. Mustard. "I thought those beasts were supposed to stay out on the Serengeti. This is enough to Boggle® my mind!" But there was no more time for idle chitchat. The colonel was not yellow and so bravely leveled his rifle and fired at the beast. The bullet struck the ferocious feline fully in the front but only infuriated the foaming fiend. It continued its charge, knocking the rifle from Mustard's grip, flattening him, and then sinking its yellow fangs into his jaundiced face. Plum, hearing the sickening crunch of the colonel's skull, was worried they would have to interrupt their trek to get the man to where he could have an Operation®. But then he realized the stiff upper lip of the militaristic colonel was now slackened forever. The man was dead, and the professor was plum scared, and could only turn his head and retch violently.

  Mrs. Peacock turned pale and threw up her hands, crying, "Land's Sake Alive!" It was her favorite saying and it seemed to fit the occasion. She turned to run in the direction she had come and the askari, seeing her abandon all hope, and also wanting to make sure that she'd be in shape to Finance® their final Payday®, followed her.

  Professor Plum was alone and there was only one thing left to do. Fumbling through his pack, he found and extracted the Tarzan to the Rescue® board game therein, retrieved the little Wheel of Fortune® inside, and opened the flap. He fondled the precious spinner, then flicked it with his finger. The image of Tarzan® on a yellow background went round and round and finally stopped. Trembling, Professor Plum closed the flap and looked at the opening. Yes! He could see the ape-man's left leg sticking into the viewing port. He was plum relieved! Tarzan® was coming to rescue him!

  At that moment, overhead, he heard a blood-curdling yell and a naked giant plummeted from the same limb on which the lion had lurked. He landed on the back of the beast, causing it great Aggravation® as he wrapped his legs around its belly and encircled its head with both arms, then locked his hands together above its neck and applied a full Nelson until there came an ominous crack, signifying the majestic beast's neck had been broken and the great cat was plum dead.

  Then, Tarzan® (for this, indeed, was he) stood and placed one foot upon the carcass of the lion and lifted his head to the heavens, giving out with the victory cry of the bull ape. Then, as quickly as he had come, their mighty rescuer disappeared, the dead lion slung easily over his shoulder.

  Professor Plum was now alone and, frankly, frightened. But he was a blueblood and was determined to take his machete and prune the overgrown trail, by himself if necessary, to push on toward the Golden Temple.

Chapter 2 -- Green's Minions
  Meanwhile, on the trail to the Golden Temple, Mr. Green was also encountering difficulties. Miss Scarlett, a would-be starlet, was complaining once more about the Risk® of the jungle. She had begged to be allowed to go on the trip and Mr. Green had relented. But once out of site of civilization, she had done nothing but gripe constantly and blame him for all of her misfortunes. Worse, Mrs. White, supported Miss Scarlett in every way, making Mr. Green's life totally miserable.

  "I told you this would be no Candy Land®," Mr. Green had warned her, "but you're acting like this is just a Trivial Pursuit®. I tell you, it's deadly serious!"

  But as Mr. Green thought on these things, a grey blur shot from the surrounding foliage and, in an instant, Mrs. White had been impaled on the horn of a charging rhino. The beast continued on its way, Mrs. White, in her death throes, flailing her arms helplessly as the rhino bore her off into the jungle.

  Miss Scarlett screamed bloody murder and ran to Mr. Green, embracing him and jumping up into his arms. In one sense, it was nice to have her pay so much attention to him all of a sudden. However, it also kept both of his hands unavailable for other tasks, such as defending them in case another rhino charged.

  It was not a rhino he need fear, however, for just then Tantor the elephant came lumbering out of the brush straight toward them. Mr. Green's Red Ryder Rifle® was leaning against a tree on the other side of the clearing, so he did the only thing he could. He dropped Miss Scarlett and dived into his pack for a weapon. All he had was a pipe wrench. "Good thing I brought that along," he thought.

  Mr. Green started to turn green but managed to stand his ground as the elephant barreled down on him, but Miss Scarlett had a different idea. When Mr. Green was rummaging through his pack, a disc-like thing had dropped out. Miss Scarlett grabbed it and saw that it was the Tarzan® disc. Quickly, she spun it and then closed the flap. She was aghast. The image of Tarzan® did not show in the opening! She opened it and spun it again. This time the image appeared! Thank God who made green grass! For Tantor was about to close on Mr. Green  and there he stood with the pathetically inadequate pipe wrench.

  With a whump, a mighty man, naked but for a loin cloth, suddenly came down from a limb above and was standing between Mr. Green and the elephant. The jungle man looked the elephant in the eye. "Dan-do, Tantor!" he cried.

  The elephant screeched to a halt, a cloud of termite dust billowing up behind him.

  "Now get outa here!" the ape-man roared.

  The elephant looked a bit hurt, but did as he was told. Before he had gone three steps, their rescuer leaped onto the paunchy pachyderm's back and left with him.

  "He didn't even stay around to let us thank him," said Miss Scarlett, her tears blurring her mascara.

  "No," said Mr. Green. "I wonder who he was."

  "It might have been Tarzan®, but I don't know for sure," said Miss Scarlett, "He didn't even introduce himself. But he left this." In the palm of her hand was a silver buckle from his loin cloth.

  "No wonder he had to leave right away," snorted Mr. Green. "His loin cloth was probably about ready to fall down."

Chapter 3 -- The Temple...and the Truth
  Long jungle marches took their toll as the various players in the game of greed continued their separate ways toward the Golden Temple. Professor Plum, all alone now, huddled in hollow logs every night, fearing that he might be eaten by one of the roving wild creatures. Mr. Green and Miss Scarlett cuddled together, seeking each other's warmth.

  Sometimes Professor Plum was further along the trail; at other times it was Mr. Green and Miss Scarlett who Scrabble®d faster and made the most headway.

  It was beginning to look like a roll of the Tumblin' Dice® would determine which one of them made it to the Golden Temple first.

  And in between both parties, unknown to either of them, was the Jungle Safari® of the mysterious Lord Passmore, who would sometimes leave his group without explanation, and return, perhaps riding an elephant or with a dead animal slung over his shoulder.

  At last, the tall Triomino®-shaped temple was visible through the trees. Professor Plum was so excited that he wet his pants. "No point in worrying about that now," he thought, although he did have a momentary twinge of regret that he had not appropriated some of the adult diapers from Mrs. Peacock's abandoned pack. But soon the hot African sun had baked his trousers dry and the absent-minded professor had forgotten all about his mishap.

  He was within about three hundred feet of the bridge that crossed the stream to the temple, when two trails met and Mr. Green and Miss Scarlett stepped off of the other one.

  "Back!" cried Mr. Green. "This temple is mine. All mine!"

  "Balderdash®!," said Professor Plum. "Besides, only I have the scientific knowledge to properly assess the archaelogical value of the temple, so whatta ya gonna do?"

  Mr. Green hauled out his wrench and smacked it menacingly into his hand. "No," said Scarlett. "You can't..."

  "Shaddup, Scarlett," Mr. Green commanded. "I'd hate to mess up that pretty little face." He glared at her meaningfully as she cringed. "No," she said in a whimper, " wouldn't..."

  "Oh, wouldn't I?" Mr. Green said with a malevolent grin. "Why do you think I came to Africa anyway? Mr. Body, back at the mansion, wasn't going to give up the location of the Golden Temple willingly."

  "Then," said the startled Professor Plum, "it was you. You were the one who murdered Mr. Body! And you brought along the pipe wrench so the police couldn't find the murder weapon!"

  "Very clever, professor," said Mr. Green. "But you're a little late at being a Mastermind®. Besides, it would never stick. You may know a lot but you don't know which room I did it in."

  "You can't Outwit® me," cried Scarlett. "I know now it was the kitchen! That's why you brought Mrs. White along, so she wouldn't discover the bloodstains!"

  Suddenly Tarzan® leaped from a tree limb above them and landed in the midst of the bickering trio.

  "No," said the jungle lord, "It was I who killed Mr. Body. Now Uno®."

Chapter 4 -- The Perils of the Professor
  As one, the three rivals stood aghast at the utterance of Tarzan®, and spoke: "You?" they said. "You killed Mr. Body?"

  "Impossible," said Mr. Green. "I did it all by myself. With this pipe wrench."

  "You may have thought so," said Tarzan®. "But you only inflicted a flesh wound. You are a weak man, Mr. Green, and you don't have the strength to inflict a fatal blow."

  "If you're right," said Miss Scarlett to Tarzan®, "then you're nothing but a murderer."

  "A murderer? No!" said the jungle man. "It was justifiable homicide and I'm not Sorry® about it. You see, Mr. Body deserved to die. On a previous expedition he had killed my Aunt Kara, Kala's sister. Just as I avenged Kala by killing Kulonga, so I mercilessly tracked Mr. Body down to his lair, and finished him off in the library."

  "Of course, the library," said Mr. Green. "You probably clobbered him with a bunch of first edition books!"

  "Get serious," said Tarzan®, motioning with his head toward the utility belt he had added after he had lost his silver buckle. Their eyes followed his and Miss Scarlett gasped. "A knife," she said. "...and a rope."

  "You'll have to guess which one I used," said Tarzan. "I've already given you enough hints. Isn't that the whole idea of the game?"

  "Blimey, man!" responded Mr. Green. "I say old chap. The only game we're playing is Tarzan to the Rescue® and we thought you were him. You were the one who kept rescuing us."

  "Yes, I did," explained Tarzan®, "but my Stratego® was to do it on behalf of Lord Passmore."

  "Lord Passmore?" they asked.

  "Yes," said ape-man. "Make no sound, and listen and you can hear the approach of his bearers right now. It is he and his men who will lay claim to the Golden Temple and the gold within...not you."

  "Not even me?" smiled Professor Plum.

  "Of course, I wouldn't cut out my father-in-law, A.Q.," said Tarzan. "Pretty clever of you to just put your initials on the expedition manifest and let others conclude the 'P' stood for Plum, just because you like to wear The Color Purple®."

  The distinguished professor turned and smiled at Mr. Green and Miss Scarlett, who had forlorn looks on their faces. "You see," he said. "Tarzan and I are old treasure-hunting friends from the days of our earliest acquaintance."

  "Nuts!" said Mr. Green. Then, glancing at Miss Scarlett, said, "Well dear, at least we have each other."

  "You kidding?" said Miss Scarlett. "I thought you had a good shot at the treasure. I don't want nuthin' to do with a loser like you. I think I'll hook up with this Passmore guy when he gets here."

  "I'm sure Lord Passmore will grant you safe passage to the coast," said Tarzan®, "but he's not available for matrimony. He has a wife who is good with a spear and bow and arrow."

  "Just my luck," said Miss Scarlett. "I never seem to have a Clue®.

  "But," she smiled somewhat demurely as she walked over to A.Q., close enough to subtly check out the thickness of his wallet while she distracted him by mischievously flicking the end of his mustache. "I just might have me a professor!"

  "Professor? Good grief, Charlie Brown®," said Lucy Van Pelt, who had just appeared on the scene at the head of Passmore's Safari®, "how did we all end up on Gilligan's Island®?"

  "I don't know," said Tarzan®, "but tell Passmore's bearers to unpack my surfboard. I'm catching a wave."

See more interpretations of the board game
Tarzan to the Rescue
by John Martin


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